


Flick the Switch

by wyvern



Series: Summer Pornathon 2015 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Established Relationship, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Self-Hatred, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvern/pseuds/wyvern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin suffers from severe anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flick the Switch

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry for Summer Pornathon's [Challenge Five: Switch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4677653?view_full_work=true).
> 
> Please do read the warnings.
> 
> This story hasn't been beta'd, so every and all errors are my own. If you find any, please let me know (in a constructive and polite manner), and I'll fix them. Thanks!
> 
> Merlin belongs to Shine, BBC, history and whatever else. I make no money off this.

***

“You need to stop, Merlin.”

The voice doesn’t sound angry, just... tired. It’s coming from the bed, where Arthur’s lying on his back against the pillows, watching him. What he says isn’t news — of course Merlin knows it’s ridiculous to switch the light on and off twelve times before going to bed. He’s not an idiot. Normal people don’t do that every night. He knows that.

Eleven.

“I know.”

Twelve.

They both know.

*

It’s difficult when the thoughts set in. What if something happens and he hasn’t performed the ritual to prevent it? He knows he’d feel incredibly guilty, being the reason for someone else hurting... He wouldn’t be able to deal with it. What if something happens to Arthur? Or Gwen, Morgana, his mum? So much can go wrong in a day: car accidents, terrorist attacks, random crazy people, getting mugged, falling into the road, falling into the _river_ , getting infected with something that’ll kill you...

Closing his eyes and breathing through his nose, Merlin leans his forehead against the cool wall. He’s holding his finger above the light switch, but isn’t flicking the lights off yet. It’s the twelfth one and it won’t feel right, he knows it. He will need to start over. That makes him feel even worse, because he shouldn’t do this at all. It’s ridiculous, ridiculous, _ridic—_

“Help me,” he says, voice so soft it’s barely audible.

But Arthur always hears Merlin. Always.

*

Every time Merlin gets fucked from behind, he buries his face in the pillows and lets the tears come. Arthur soothingly runs his hands over his ribs and back, murmuring sweet nothings, trying to calm him down. He doesn’t understand it’s tears of relief — that being allowed to let go is the only time Merlin actually can let himself be happy. The only time worry isn’t devouring him from the inside out.

Unfortunately, it never lasts long.

It lasts through Arthur’s cock hitting that hot spot inside him; through Arthur holding him down roughly; through them both coming; through Arthur kissing him gently afterwards... but later, in the bathroom, when Merlin looks at the man with dark shadows under his eyes who’s staring back at him from the mirror, the anxiety hits him twice as hard. 

He turns away so he doesn’t have to see more of what he’s become, closes the door and flicks the light switch as he starts counting. 

One, two...

*

Four, five.

There are days he wishes he’d never been born. 

Six, seven.

*

Every time he manages to turn off the lights — which always happens sooner or later — Arthur kisses him, wraps his arms around him, and holds him close as he slowly falls into sleep. It makes Merlin feel safe. 

Still, the feeling of failure never falls asleep like Arthur does.

*

“Merlin, we’re going to the Fringe Festival this weekend! Leon’s borrowing us his flat, and I’ve managed to book us cheap train tickets to Edinburgh and everything!”

For normal people, surprise weekend trips are something nice. Arthur’s doing something nice for him. Merlin has no right feeling himself go tense and awkward, he should feel grateful. He grips the table behind him for support.

“Sounds nice,” he says, and manages a smile.

*

Nine, ten... no. _Fuck!_ So close.

One, two, three... no.

One... no.

One...

“Merlin.”

Arthur is right behind him, his half-naked body radiating warmth Merlin can feel through his pyjamas. His hand closes over Merlin’s, forcing him to stop.

“Merlin, _please_.”

“I...” Merlin takes a deep breath, tries to keep his voice from shaking. “I— I can’t stop.”

It’s difficult, saying those words, but’s the closest he can get to explaining how much he worries. He can’t explain exactly how worthless he feels, or how he can’t deal with things everyone else thinks are normal, or how he might accidentally kill all of them if he just makes a simple mistake and forgets. How repeating pointless rituals keeps him just out of reach of the crippling guilt and fear.

Arthur doesn’t understand, but he tries to. Leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Merlin’s cheek, he moves his hand off Merlin’s before sighing and returning to bed.

“I love you,” he says.

Merlin swallows.

One, two, three.

“I love you, too.”

Four, five, six.

***

THE END


End file.
